By What the Hill?

Running the road to nowhere

Feb 28, 2011 | 8:20 PM

Whether it was my new year’s resolution or just part of a plan to better myself, I’m not sure, but I decided I wanted to learn to run.

While this may seem like a fairly normal plan for a 20-something woman, it’s not for me. To decide to learn to run is a big deal.

I hate running, well I did.

I was one of those kids who could play basketball and soccer, but when it came to running for gym class I wouldn’t even make it out of the parking lot of the school before walking.

In my own defence I had, and still have, major issues with my knees, but the reality was I just hated it.

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So I’m still not sure what prompted me to want to learn and I’m still skeptical.

I googled learn to run programs and found one that promised to take me from couch potato to five-kilometre runner in 15 weeks. I started at week three, because I wasn’t a couch potato.

That Saturday morning I dragged myself to the field house to run on the treadmill. One minute walk and two minute run was the starting point and as time passed the running portion got longer.

Then I set the treadmill goal to five kilometres and planned to run at least half of it.

I started running. And I was getting exhausted.

What was wrong with me, I’d been following the steps and sure I’d sped up the process a little bit, but it shouldn’t have made me that tired.

I tried to look anywhere but the slowly moving distance measurement — 0.1, 0.2, 0.3 — I was sore before for I even hit the 1.0 marker.

Then at 3.1, the treadmill stopped.

That was not a good feeling. I figured it had stopped me because it had already taken half an hour to get only that far.

I slunk home feeling pretty badly, but the next week I was up for trying it again.

And again it stopped me at 3.1. I started realizing it wasn’t me. I did some math in my head before asking the ladies on the treadmills next to mine.

“Does this thing measure distance in miles,” I said, gesturing to the treadmill control panel.

They both nodded.

Perfect, I finally decide to run and even the equipment is out to get me. Goals are set in kilometres, but results measured in miles and there are no warning labels.

Since then, I’ve given up on the treadmill. I know that four and a half laps on the track are a kilometre.
Now I’m just waiting until it is warm enough to get outside.

There are people who have been telling me that you can run outside in the winter, but unless I’m in Vancouver I don’t see that happening.

“As long as you pack your water bottle close to your body, it won’t freeze,” said one runner, who said 20 kilometers at -30 C wasn’t entirely out of the question.

Right, well if I leave my water-bottle on the well-heated track, it won’t freeze either.

With five kilometres now under my belt, I find myself looking to do more.

I tell other runners that even a half marathon isn’t a possibility, but the just smile knowingly, like I’ve started something I won’t be able to stop.

Well at least this seems to be healthy addiction – well at least as healthy as running for long distances in the freezing cold, rain or other random weather patterns can be.